something has been broken

some thing has broke inside of me
the tinkering is a rattle
the pitter patter is droll
the tear has found its own origin
devoid of the synapse or frontal lobe

I am not sure where the Soul has gone
there was no sad letter left
Empty kitchen counter
of my subconscious has said as much

Perhaps it got milk and got lost
How unfortunate it is to have loved.